Who Is Your Hero?

My daughter came home from school a month or so ago and asked me a very interesting question "Who do you consider your hero?  And don't go for the easy answer, Mom.".  My first answer being all of our military and their families, as well as police and firemen, was nixed by the ten year old playing the college professor.  Judging by the serious countenance on my child's face, I guessed that Superman, Batman, and Spiderman, would be swiftly nixed as well.

My Hero

It was a simply worded question and yet it made me stop and think.  I know who my hero is, but can I adequately put into words what is in my heart?  I'm not sure, but I've decided to give it a go.

He was a spunky kid who would climb to the top of the highest object just so he could imagine himself flying.  Sometimes that meant he was climbing to the top of the telephone pole, nearly causing his mother heart failure.  And sometimes that spunk had him trying to coerce neighbor kids to put their tongues on the cistern pump handle in the bitter cold, much to his parents' chagrin.

He played sports in high school and according to his accounts, rode his bike through the mountains of West (by God) Virginia to school every single day.  Uphill...... both ways.  Through 6 feet of snow.  With a tenor saxophone on his bike's handle bars.  

High School Graduation

He joined the ROTC in college and, upon graduation, became a commissioned officer in the United States Air Force as a fighter pilot.  While he was stationed in Alabama going through training and "getting jets", he met a lovely young woman on base.  He attracted her because of his baby blue '59 Buick convertible and she attracted him with her cute looks and figure.  They were married 6 weeks later.  

The infamous '59 Baby Blue Buick Convertible

Within a few months of marriage, the newlyweds were stationed overseas with the 81st Tactical Fighter Wing at RAF Bentwaters, England.  He gave selflessly of himself to his country while he buried a number of his fighter pilot friends who crashed their fighter jets, including his best friend, while in service to their country.

One day in October of 1962, with Air Force base sirens sounding in the background, he called his wife and quickly informed her that the base had been put on full alert.  His fighter jet was loaded with bombs and he'd be sitting on the runway waiting for the green light to go and defend his country.

While he had enough fuel to get to his destination and do what his government commanded of him, he did not have enough fuel to get to safety, back to his base, or even to an area of land.  This was his farewell to her and their 2 young sons.

For nearly 2 weeks, he sat in his fighter jet at the end of the runway on full alert.  The jet engines were on and ready for take-off, the plane was fully loaded with bombs, just awaiting the go-ahead command from the big brass.  Thankfully the situation (the Cuban Missile Crisis) was resolved without him having to perform what would have been a suicide mission.

In 1963, his squadron's command was taken over by the indomitable Colonel (and later General) Robin Olds, who brought with him Colonel Daniel "Chappie" James, Jr. (who would later go on to become the first African American 4-star General in the Air Force).  The stories from this era are too numerous to write about in one blog post but suffice it to say that while there were a lot of missions flown during this time, as were as a lot of parties attended.

As a result of those parties, this hero came back to the United States with his lovely wife....... and 3 bouncing baby boys, each born less than a year apart.

Stationed at Reese Air Force base in Lubbock, Texas, this man began training young fighter pilots.  One of the parts of his duties left an indelible impression upon his heart.  That job was informing next of kin (wives) of the death of their fighter pilot spouse.

There are no words suitable to ever describe how terribly heartbreaking and life-changing this part of his job was.  To this day, he remembers each spouse's reaction upon seeing him walk up to their home or place of work.

While at Reese AFB, he was asked to join the prestigious USAF Thunderbirds.  It is a tremendous honor to be asked to join this elite fighter jet show team but, upon learning they were gone for most of the year, he declined.  Seeing his wife and 4 children took precedence over the fun he would of surely had performing breathtaking mid-air stunts.

He left the USAF in 1967 with a wife and 4 young children.  Yes, there was another party after they arrived in Lubbock, TX, which yielded him a daughter. Upon leaving the USAF, he went to work for a commercial airline as a pilot.



1st Officer

He and his family were stationed in Buffalo, New York.  The commercial airline pilot pay wasn't enough to support his family, so when he wasn't flying airplanes, he was substitute teaching to help supplement his income.  While there wasn't enough money to take his family out to dinner and to the movies, he created wonderful memories for his children by digging caves in the mountainous snow and having epic snowball fights.  

As his children grew, he was a beacon to them for doing what was right, not necessarily what was easy.  Even though he would be gone flying commercial jets for many days each month, which resulted in him missing many a birthday and holiday because of his flight schedule, his wife and children knew how much he loved them and they found creative ways to celebrate those days.

He was required to retire from piloting commercial airplanes in the United States at the age of 60.  Having flown most of his life, the transition to staying home every day out of the month was interesting for both he and his wife.  He was used to doing his own thing, and so was she, but they adapted.

His focus changed from studying airplane manuals and flight standards, to working on his golf handicap, doting on his grandchildren, and traveling around the world with his wife.

Today is this hero's 80th birthday.  Today I celebrate this man and all he has accomplished and all of the love he has so selflessly poured out onto those around him.  Today I celebrate my hero, my Dad.  Happy 80th birthday!  I love you more than there are stars in the sky and grains of sand upon this earth!

Written by Christie Bielss

Where Were You?

From my earliest memories, my parents and grandparents spoke to me and my brothers of the trials, hardships and atrocities of World War II.  We listened intently to their stories and saw the pain, loneliness, and heartache that were written on their souls from their experiences, but we couldn't fully understand.  We had never experienced such life altering circumstances and had nothing to draw from to truly comprehend their sadness.

Within the span of a few short hours one September day, my heart and soul were changed forever and ached with a pain which could never be fully assuaged.  On this day I understood what my parents and grandparents had experienced.  Watching live television coverage of the second plane hit the World Trade Center was forever seared into my memory.  Hearing the accounts of survivors who had made it out of the World Trade Center alive left me in disbelief at the horrors they had witnessed.

As I listened to the family members of Flight 93 recount their cell phone conversations with their loved ones, I could feel their very strength and determination infusing my soul.  I could see a visible change in the faces of the news anchors as they listened.  Yes, there was an angry flame that was lit in the heart of most every American that day, but there was something more.  Something so much more.

The very heart of America was changed and we were sewn together in a bond which was impenetrable by any outside forces.  You felt that bond in the workplace, while pumping gas at the gas station, or when you were buying groceries at the store.  What was meant to drive a wedge into the heart and soul of America instead united this country and created a deep and profound resolve.  America made the choice right then to never surrender .................... and to never forget.

So on this 11th day of September 2013, 12 years later I choose to stand with my grandparents and remember so that we are never doomed to repeat our past.  12 years ago today, I was 5 months pregnant, we had just been transferred across the country for my husband's job, and I was taking my dog for a walk when the first plane hit the World Trade Center.  As I walked in the door to my home, the phone was ringing.  It was my husband telling me to turn on the television.

As I sat there watching the live coverage, the second plane hit the twin tower.  Disbelief, horror, and panic ensued.  My youngest brother had mentioned he was to be in New York at the World Trade Center.  My panic increased when I heard that one of the planes was from Boston.  My middle brother was in Boston on business and was supposed to be flying out.  And then I realized my oldest brother, a commercial pilot, was likely in the air.  All of these thoughts in a split second.

I flew to the phone.  Before I could reach it, it was already ringing.  It was my Mom........ and I could feel the uncertainty and fear in her voice through the phone line.  She told me to turn off the television and she would get in touch with all of my sister-in-laws to find out where my brothers were.

Immediately upon hanging up, my Mom's phone started ringing.  My middle brother's wife called first to say he was safe and ok.  He was stuck in Boston and the city was shut down, but he was alive and he would have to figure out a way to get home to Texas.

My youngest brother called next.  He had ended up having to cancel his trip and was not at the World Trade Center, however, he had lost friends and colleagues who were there in the World Trade Center that day.  We thanked God for altering my brother's travel plans.

Last up was my oldest brother.  He had been ordered to land in the middle of the United States, as had all air traffic, and was safe as well, albeit stuck in the boonies.  It took much longer to find out about him because he had been put into a landing rotation which required him to circle his assigned airport for quite a while until it was his turn to land.  As soon as he was on the ground, he was on the phone.

We thanked God so many times on that day because for a few short hours, my world did stop turning.  Time literally stood still as I sat and waited for word on my family members in the quiet stillness of my home.  I prayed ceaselessly in the ensuing days for my family and friends, for my Dad's co-workers and friends who were American Airlines pilots and flight attendants, for our leaders, and for all of those who were killed and injured, as well as those who lost loved ones that day.

As my parents and grandparents taught us, we will never forget and we will make sure that our children never forget.  So, where were you when the world stopped turning?

by: Christie Bielss